Chapter 2

Memories poured out like a broken faucet, unstoppable.

On my first day of preschool at age three, I asked Mom in confusion.

"Mommy, the teacher says my name is Serena. Why do you always call Aria 'baby' but call me 2328?"

Mom looked at me, enunciating each word.

"To me, you're 2328. Don't get all sentimental about it."

I didn't understand. I just nodded blankly.

When I was five, Aria beat up a neighborhood kid for taking her toy.

Mom paid two thousand dollars in medical bills, then immediately set a new rule for me.

"2328, from now on, if someone hits you, don't hit back. Just come tell me."

I remembered.

After a bully pushed me off the slide and I scraped my knee badly, I held back tears and went home.

Mom disinfected my wound while asking.

"Why did he push you? Did you provoke him?"

I opened my mouth, but seeing Mom's interrogating look, I didn't dare speak.

Turns out Mom didn't tell me not to fight back so she could defend me-she just didn't want me causing her trouble.

At thirteen, Aria became obsessed with fashion.

Mom bought her dress after dress, accessory after accessory.

Aria grew increasingly materialistic, narcissistic like a proud princess.

Seeing this, Mom immediately cut up all the clothes in my closet, leaving only two T-shirts and pairs of pants.

"Look at Aria, all she cares about is appearance. You need to focus entirely on studying."

The result? I was mocked and isolated for three years for my shabby, outdated clothes.

When Aria reached senior year, Mom hired her a private tutor at three hundred dollars an hour.

She forced Aria into college.

The day the acceptance letter arrived, Mom said to me.

"See? Aria relied too much on tutoring. She lost her ability to study independently-that's why she didn't get into a top 10 university."

She dragged me home from school and locked me in my room, forcing me to "study independently."

I ended up only getting into community college.

"Community college is great-practical. Your sister's school costs thirty to forty thousand a year. You're better off learning a trade."

During Aria's four years of college, she posted daily on social media about dinners, trips, and the living expenses Mom sent her.

Mom liked every post while messaging me.

"Aria is wasting her time. Mom applied for student loans for you. You'll pay them back yourself-that way you'll value your education."

So during school, I worked three jobs.

I graduated with thirty-six thousand dollars in debt.

Meanwhile, Mom paid all of Aria's tuition and living expenses.

All I got was: "2328, you're so much more independent than your sister. You never make Mom worry."

For over twenty years, Mom used Aria as her educational "experiment."

She pampered and protected Aria, doing everything to elevate Aria's life.

Yet she constantly told others she'd "ruined" Aria.

And me? I was the "lucky one" who benefited from her timely course correction.

Aria's bright confidence became "vanity."

Aria's carefree attitude became "irresponsibility."

Aria's sense of security became "spoiled willfulness."

Meanwhile, my timidity, insecurity, and frugality got repackaged as maturity and self-reliance.

"Mom learned from all her mistakes with Aria and corrected everything with you."

"Look how well you turned out. You never make Mom worry."

My life was severely pruned and trimmed.

But unlike Aria, I never received love's nourishment.

"How is this not for your own good?"

Mom shot back, looking at me like I was ungrateful.

"Mom, I don't want to be called 2328. I want someone to call me 'baby' too. Buy me a dress. Stand up for me once. I want to be cherished just once..."

Mom's expression froze.

"I practiced so much on your sister and gave you all the right methods. Now you got the better deal and you're complaining?"

Her lips trembled, her eyes filled with warning and anger.

Aria entered the bedroom, glancing at us.

"2328, your boyfriend is so rude. He just up and left."